Though typically I see little reason to take pity on bandwagon-jumping bands when they’re later judged by history to suffer bad comparisons to the original bands that they’re ripping off, there are times when you have to acknowledge tragically bad timing. For instance, even though they clearly took inspiration from the other bands of the British Invasion, who knows how massive the Kinks might have been had they not spent their entire careers playing a distant fourth to the Beatles, Rolling Stones and the Who. Sure, today they’re rightly regarded as one of the greatest bands in rock’s history, but the disparity between the acclaim they’ve received compared to their similarly talented peers is nothing short of a karmic injustice. Take John Prine or Townes Van Zandt, two singer-songwriters whose smart writing and lack of commercial appeal kept them buried under a new wave of populist anthem-makers like Bruce Springsteen and James Taylor in the 1970s. And then there’s Band of Horses, a reverb-drenched Americana band from Seattle who have developed a remarkable ability to craft gorgeously ethereal towers of ringing guitars and soaring vocals – a band that just happens to have the bad fortune of sounding almost exactly like the widely acclaimed and better known My Morning Jacket.

With both bands having roots in the South – Band of Horses’ principle songwriter and vocalist Ben Bridwell, drummer Creighton Barrett and bassist Rob Hampton all hail from South Carolina, and the members of My Morning Jacket operate out of Kentucky – some incidental resemblances are natural. But the vocal similarities between Bridwell and My Morning Jacket lead singer Jim James are uncanny. Both favor copious amounts of reverb on their versatile tenors, going from soft whispers to roaring climaxes on the turn of a note. Both write songs with surging layers of guitar that rumble and swirl, softly tearing holes in the sonic atmosphere of their arrangements. Both are receiving increased exposure through high profile placement of songs in commercials and on TV shows. My Morning Jacket just happened to get there first, and in the mind of most people, that’s all that matters.

Following up their breakthrough debut, 2006’s Everything All the Time,
Band of Horses entered the process of recording Cease to Begin with a
lot of expectations and one fewer member, with guitarist Mat Brooke
leaving the band under reportedly contentious circumstances. With
Bridwell having formed the band in 2004 after departing Seattle-area
band Carissa’s Wierd, he dealt with those pressures by ending a decade
of life on the West Coast, returning to the band to their original
South Carolina stomping grounds, and the influence of the South hangs
heavy over the album. My Morning Jacket might be the band most noted
for the Southern rock pedigree, but here Band of Horses makes the first
tentative move to embrace that legacy.

Case in point, with handclaps and rolling gospel piano lines, “The
General Specific” sounds like something pulled from the catalog of one
of country music’s famed brother duos, the Everly Brothers, with
Bridwell playing both siblings with his gorgeous close harmonies.
There’s also “Marry Song,” a Southern-tinged ballad that is set at a
wedding, with wistful greetings to family and friends over plaintive
electric piano lines and greasy guitars. The weary slide guitar and
tinkling banjo of “Window Blues” is even better, with Bridwell’s
regret-filled vocal closing the album on an understated note. The rest
of the disc is not quite so subtle.

As with their debut, Band of Horses are masters of simple yet
transcendent guitar anthems, from the stormy supercharged rounds of
“Cigarettes, Wedding Bands” to the driving climax of “Is There a
Ghost,” a dazzlingly repetitive track that seems to be a rumination on
being kept awake by a pesky apparition. The influence of the grungier
side of Neil Young continues to pop up, most evident in the stomping
“Ode to LRC,” a track that shifts from rousing distortion into
luminescent synths and flowing choruses that provide a startling
counterpoint to the song’s muscular first half. Best of all is “No
One’s Gonna Love You,” a beautifully sappy power ballad with sweetly
ringing minor chords and clipped sentimentality that is bound to end up
as the first dance at a few hipster weddings.

In the end, Band of Horses have some work to do before every first
paragraph written about them will include a mention of My Morning
Jacket, but the world could do worse than to have two bands that create
such otherworldly sonic terrains. That they happen to live in adjoining
neighborhoods shouldn’t matter much, as both bands have their own
distinctive charms and neither seems to be interested in cashing in on
the other’s success. For a second album, Cease to Begin is certainly no
disappointment, but it comes off as a bit slight, taken as a whole.
Retracing many of the best moments from their debut and adding a few
new shades, it’s arguably their debut’s equal on a song-by-song basis.
Still, at 10 songs, one of which is only a brief instrumental
interlude, the album lacks the epic sprawl that would have made it an
unmitigated success. For now, Band of Horses will just have to be
content to remain the best band toiling in My Morning Jacket’s shadow.

Sound
Though producer Phil Ek favors large doses of reverb, Cease to Begin
retrains a crispness that is uncommon for an album whose textures sound
so uncompromisingly large. As such, it’s a gorgeous sounding record,
with gritty layers of distortion, piercingly crystalline guitar lines
and full-bodied harmonies rushing to fill every inch of open space.
Even so, the album has a distinct sense of atmosphere, despite its
massive sounding textures, striking the perfect balance between such
moments of largesse and precision. With everything but the vocals
balanced in the mix, the simple arrangements don’t feature many
intricate touches that will be brought out by high-end equipment, and
should sound great blasting out of cheap car speakers or exorbitantly
expensive stereos.